


Beach #1

by Wonderlandleighleigh



Series: The Loft Kids [9]
Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Kidfic, Technically a Crossover, but not crossover characters appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderlandleighleigh/pseuds/Wonderlandleighleigh
Summary: Summers are spent at one of Uncle Tony’s many. many houses. The one that sits right on the beach is the one that Joey Rogers likes best.





	Beach #1

Summers are spent at one of Uncle Tony’s many, many houses. The one that sits right on the beach is the one that Joey Rogers likes best.

It’s enormous, and if you lean out on the balcony you can see forever.

It doesn’t hurt that there are a million bedrooms, which is important when you’re vacationing with more than 30 people.

At night, with the windows thrown open, you can hear the waves crashing and some lonely, distant birds chirping. Joey closes his eyes, sprawled out on the big bed with Jamie and Colin, and he thinks that life is pretty good.

But it’s warm, and Jamie snores a little and he can’t seem to sleep, so he rolls out of bed and creeps down the hallway and to the stares.

He can see into the dining room below, where his father is playing cards with some of the other adults. They laugh softly and talk quietly, and it looks like fun, Joey thinks.

Joey’s spotted a few moments later by his father, who grins and gives his head a jerk, signally that yeah, it’s fine that Joey is up way past his bedtime.

He dashes down the stairs and over to the table crawling into his father’s lap, and the reception to his presence is warm and amused.

“Little late, huh?” Uncle Bucky asks and leans over to ruffle his hair gently.

“He’s a night owl like the rest of us,” Uncle Sam says, grinning.

“Wanna play a hand, Joe?” Uncle Tony asks, stubbing out a stinky cigar and quirking a playful eyebrow at him.

“He doesn’t know how to play,” Pop says, rubbing his arm gently.

“No time like the present to learn,” says Mr. Logan, who’s got his own cigar clenched between his teeth. He always looks a little scary, but Joey likes him a lot.

Pop sighs heavily and leans back in his chair. “Zondra wanted to teach him, but I wanted to hold off until he was older to start him on gambling.”

“Maria learned last year,” Uncle Tony says. “She can beat me now.”

“That’s because you’re a terrible poker player,” Uncle Rhodey says.

“Bite your tongue,” Uncle Tony snips. “I’m great at poker.”

“You wish,” Uncle Clint says. “You’re the worst.”

“Says the man who is the worst at almost everything,” Auntie Nat says.

Joey sits back against his father’s chest, just watching everyone. Pop’s t-shirt is thin and he can feel the man’s warmth underneath it, against his back. Everybody else is dressed pretty much the same. thin t-shirts or tank tops and sweatpants or shorts. Uncle Bucky’s arm glints in the light from the lamp hanging over them, and Uncle Tony’s hair sticks up every which way. Everybody’s got their eyes on their cards except for Uncle Sam, who gives him a grin and a wink.

Joey smiles back big and then looks down at his Pop’s cards. He doesn’t know how to play, but he puts on a serious face anyways.

Uncle Tony chuckles. “Steve, Joe’s poker face is better than yours.”

Pop grins. “That he gets from Zondra.”

“What do you say, Joe?” Aunt Nat asks. “You wanna be a spy like your mom and me?”

Joey grins and shakes his head.

“Smart kid,” Mr. Logan says. He grin at Joey, taking another puff off his cigar.

Pop strokes his hair in that way that he always does when Joey can’t sleep, which is often these days. It’s hard to stop thinking long enough to actually sleep. He has ideas and thoughts and feelings and they keep him up.

He watches the adults around him play, and his eyes start to droop after a while.

“Somebody’s not gonna make it through the end of the game,” Uncle Bucky chuckles. “Steve you want me to put him back to bed?”

“Nah,” Pop says, and Joey lets his head rest on his shoulder as the man gets to his feet. He hears his father’s footfalls and suddenly he’s being lowered onto a big, soft couch, facing the big windows, looking right out at the ocean.

Pop’s kind, smiling face comes into view and he brushes Joey’s hair from his eyes. “You good sleepin here?”

Joey nods, curling up, and Pop pulls a blanket from the back of the couch, settling it over him.

“Sweet dreams, Pal.”

Joey’s eyes slip closed.


End file.
